


Feels Like Flying

by tlcinbflo



Series: Worthy - Dallas and Cullen's Story [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6048583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tlcinbflo/pseuds/tlcinbflo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dallas and Cullen steal a moment on the battlements.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Flying

Dallas Trevelyan hauled herself up to sit on the ledge of the battlements. Her legs dangled over the side of the building and she closed her eyes. She enjoyed the feel of the air moving over her body with no stone barrier. It seemed to blow through her finery, caressing her skin as if she were nude. There was nothing below her, just open air. It was liberating, and she thought, maybe this is what it felt like to fly.  


She’d been uncommonly stressed over the last few weeks. Aside from the work she was doing with the Inquisition, everyone’s insistence that she was more than just a woman with an ability, and the unending demands of everyone she met, she wasn’t sleeping. Yet, she knew her insomnia had little to do with the Inquisition and more to do with the Inquisition’s Commander.  


Cullen had been invading her thoughts more than they should, and she had to admit she was enjoying it more than she should. He wasn’t noble. He had nothing to offer her family in return for her hand. He would never be considered an acceptable match. Then again, her family had not made mention of arranging any type of marriage for her. She had to get used to the fact that her family would have no say on who she married. Still, she had to wonder if she would be able to marry for love, or if the Inquisition she now served would require her to be matched to someone she barely knew. Regardless, it didn’t matter where Cullen was concerned; as attracted as she was, he had not made any attempt to court her.  


She had considering making the first move, taking her flirtation further than what considered appropriate for someone of her standing, but something held her back. She couldn’t place it. It’s not like she was an innocent; her virtue had been spoiled years ago. There was something about the Commander that made her want to follow the rules.  


They spent the early morning hours together in the dew soaked grass of the training grounds. Sparring until their clothes were soaked with sweat and their bodies burned with exertion. She enjoyed her mornings with him, for more than the sheer physicality of the workout. She always believed you could tell a lot about a person by how they fought. How they held their weapon. The precision they used when they attacked. Whether they knew how to use their power.  


He was a controlled fighter. He never used his full strength on her, though she’d seen him demolish one of the training dummies. She found she liked that about him. He knew his strength, and how and when to use it. She also liked the way his skin glistened as their workouts continued. There were more than a few times he’d scored on her because she was distracted by the shift of muscles she could make out beneath his thin shirt.  


They’d had long talks over chess. They spoke of their families, and the expectations they had of them. She guessed Cullen hadn’t missed her frustration when she spoke of her need to marry well. She had thought, and later dismissed, that she had seen a spark of disappointment in his eyes. Neither of them realizing at the time her family would give up on her, agreeing to support the Inquisition but not their daughter. It was just as well, she’d no intention of returning – even if she did survive.  


Cullen even flirted with her, at least she thought he did. Light, easy comments that would make her blush, or grin. He seemed to like making her laugh, to take pleasure in the sound. He seemed to find reasons for contact. Whether during chess, meals, or even at the War Table. With a deep sigh, she reminded herself to push it aside as wishful thinking.  


Yet, she did notice him watching for her on the days she was scheduled to return from one of her trips. He’d be standing on the battlements, near his room, eyes on the horizon. A sentinel on the wall, waiting for the gates to open and her company to file in. She could swear they’d make eye contact even over the distance before he’d turn and walk away. She had to wonder if he was looking for her, or to be sure his troops returned unharmed.  


At the end of the day, they were friends, and she would have to accept that was all they were going to be. She sighed, picking a loose piece of stone from the wall and tossing it over the ledge. She watched it fall until she couldn’t see it anymore. She wondered how long it would take to hit the bottom.  


“You do love making me nervous, don’t you?” She was startled by the deep rumble of Cullen’s voice over her shoulder. She jumped slightly, but came no where near falling. It didn’t stop his hand from reaching out and grasping her arm, alarm bright in his eyes.  


A soft giggle slipped from her lips. “I was perfectly stable until someone snuck up behind me.” Her reply was teasing as she moved her legs back over to the safe side of the wall. He didn’t release her, but he moved his hands to her waist and helped her down. Her chest brushed against his as she reached her feet. A breath caught in her throat at their proximity. She thought she noticed the soft rose color of a blush rising from his neck as she gripped his forearms, but assumed it was the setting sun.  


“I do wish you would be more careful.” His voice was soft when he spoke. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear, not moving from in front of her. Dallas’ heart began to race as her bright blue eyes met his warm brown gaze. His fingers continued their caress, down her neck. His index finger extending to trace along her jaw before his thumb grazed her lips. She choked on his name. His face turned ripe tomato red. “Forgive me,” he muttered, releasing her and taking a half step away. “I forgot myself, Inquisitor.” She kept her eyes on him, as he pulled his arms from her touch. Her heart was pounding against her chest as she tried to search his face as he avoided her gaze. Could she have read him that wrong?  


She cleared her throat. “Cullen,” his eyes moved to where her face, flicking between her eyes and her lips as she spoke. “Why do I make you nervous?”  


He kept his eyes on hers as she reached out and took his hands, pulling gently, bringing him closer to her. He stepped back into her space without resistance. “The Inquisition needs you. I want to be sure you return safe, and that you stay safe when you’re here … for the Inquisition.”  


“Cullen.” Her tone was a reprimand, and by the way his eyes dropped he knew it. She could hardly let herself believe it. Did he care for her the way she did him? Was it mutual and not one-sided as she had believed? “Please, don’t lie to me now.”  


“Inquisitor?”  


“No.” She placed his hands back on her waist as her eyes met his, drinking in the sight of him. Confidence growing, cheeks red, eyes flitting over her face. She felt the heat of her blush rising and she barely cared as she tried to calm her racing heart.  


He cleared his throat, like he was preparing himself for an internal battle, or to break some unspoken rule or barrier. “Dallas.” His hands moved from her waist to the small of her back. His arms wrapped fully around her. He said her name as if it was part of the Chant of Light. There was a reverence in it that was different than his use of her title and the sound of her name from his lips sent a chill down her spine.  


“Why do I make you nervous?” she repeated the question as her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders.  


“I care for you, more than I should, and I can’t sleep until you’re back, safe in these walls. Where I can protect you myself.” There was an honesty in his tone that broke something inside her. She chewed her lip as her eyes searched his. He didn’t look away.  


“How long would you allow us to suffer this ache due to your silence?” She reached up and traced his jaw, he leaned into her palm. She tried not to sound angry, she wasn’t. There was surprise, confusion, and excitement warring for primary space in her mind.  


“I am not worthy.” The pain in his voice brought tears to her eyes.  


“I am not the Inquisition,” she reminded him in a hoarse whisper. Her hand reaching up to run through his curls as his hands caressed her back.  


“I wasn’t talking about the you, the Inquisitor. I am not worthy of you, of Dallas,” he explained, and she could see it in his eyes, before he dropped them, that he truly believed that.  


She sighed and cupped his face, tilting his head up to meet her eyes again. “I guess it’s lucky then, that I finally get to decide who is worthy of me.” She closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. He inhaled sharply and a groan slipped from his throat as he pulled her into his chest and pressed her up against the stone behind her. Her hands were tangled in his hair as their lips danced.  


She ran her tongue along his bottom lip, and he gasped. She took advantage and her tongue swept through his mouth. That was the last move she took as he assumed control of their kiss. His body flush with hers as he plundered her mouth. He tasted like the cool mint of the tea he liked, but there was a bitterness to his flavor. The lyrium, perhaps? Whatever it was, it made her head spin.  


Their breathing increased and their hearts raced as their hands acquainted themselves with the curves and planes of the other’s body. His large, strong, calloused hands ran over her body like she was made of some delicate material that might tear. She trembled against him. His tongue slid against hers, and his teeth teased her bottom lip. She could barely keep her footing as the heat spread through her body. She clung to him like her life depended on him, on his kiss. Perhaps it did. Dallas had been kissed before. She’d taken a man to her bed before. She’d been pleased, satisfied, before.  


When Cullen kissed her, his arms around her, and his perfect hands caressing her body, she finally knew what it felt like to fly.


End file.
